by Beth Labonte
“We, um, we wanted to invite you to my bachelorette party,” I say, trying my best to sound genuine. “It’s this Thursday.”
“This Thursday?” says Francine. “Isn’t that the same night as Graham’s bachelor party?”
I shoot Tanya a triumphant look. Why would she know the date of Graham’s bachelor party if she wasn’t planning on causing trouble?
“Yes, that is the same night,” I say, taking a step forward and looking her straight in the eye. “How did you know?”
Francine shrugs. “Babette may have mentioned it.”
“Is that so?” I take another step closer, searching her face for signs of guilt.
Francine takes a long drag from her cigarette and takes a step forward. We’re standing about a foot apart. Then she blows a cloud of smoke into my face.
“Take a picture,” she snaps. “It lasts longer.” She bursts into laughter and grabs her pack of cigarettes off the kitchen counter. “You gals want a smoke?”
“No!” I say, waving my hand in front of my face and backing into the living room. “Gross.”
“Your loss,” says Francine. “Anyway, count us in.”
“Us?”
“Can’t Janice come too?”
“Oh, right. Sure, Janice can come too.”
“Great,” says Francine. “I know she’d hate to miss a strip show.”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re going to a strip show, aren’t we?”
Leave it to Francine. Babette won’t tell me what she has planned for my bachelorette party, but I told her specifically that I don’t want any male strippers. I should mention that this will be my second bachelorette party. I already had my real one a month ago when Tanya and a few of my girlfriends flew down to Miami, while Graham and his friends took off to Vegas. Graham being Graham, however, thought that we should each have a second party in order to include our parents. Maybe it’s just me, but the words parents and bachelor party don’t ever need to go together.
But, I went along with it because we’ll probably just end up dancing in one of the town commons, wrapped in feather boas. Pretty much a typical night for Francine and Janice.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No strippers.” I wander further into the living room, looking at all the photographs on the mantel above the fireplace. There are several photos of a young man—high school senior picture, wedding photo, several smaller framed photos of young children. Tanya joins me, looking at each one.
“Is this your son?” she asks.
“Yes, that’s my Joseph. He’s the spitting image of his father, God rest his soul.” Francine lets out a long, hacking cough. “I haven’t seen him or my grandchildren in over a year, though.”
“A year?” says Tanya. “That’s awful. Why don’t they visit?”
“Joey is very busy,” says Francine, waving her hand in the air. “He owns a hotel up in Connecticut that’s not doing so well. One terrorist cell sets up shop in your penthouse, and suddenly nobody wants to stay there anymore. It’s not like they didn’t find the explosives in time.” Francine shrugs and sits down at the kitchen table.
Tanya and I just stare at her, wide-eyed.
“The last time I saw him, I told him he should just set the place on fire for the insurance money.” She jabs her cigarette toward us. “Now there’s a scam that never gets old.”
“Anyway,” she continues, “He can’t just drop everything to bring the kids down to visit their boring, old grandmother, can he?”
“Boring old grandmother?” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Do they know what their boring, old grandmother’s been up to with boring, old Gil in his golf cart?”
“Summer!” hisses Tanya.
Francine just laughs. “They most certainly do not. But they can’t expect me to just sit around waiting to die now, can they? No, I’ve done enough of that. I’ve got to do something else to pass the time.” She takes another drag from her cigarette. “May as well be Gil.”
“So, Francine,” I say, leaning my elbow on the table and propping my chin up with my hand, all casual-like. “Speaking of things you’ve done to pass the time. When Graham and I were picking out his wedding tuxedo, he mentioned that he hadn’t worn a tux since the time he took you to something called the Senior Prom. What was that all about?”
Francine stares into the distance for a few seconds—probably picturing Graham, all handsome in his tuxedo, fastening a corsage onto her bony wrist—and then she starts to speak.
20
“It was about six months after my Frederick passed away, and I’d been having a real tough time adjusting to life on my own. Freddie may not have been the smartest guy in the world, or the best looking, or the wealthiest—”
Geez. The woman can’t even give her dead husband a compliment.
“—but he was always there. Do you girls know what I mean?”
Tanya and I nod in agreement. At least Freddie had one thing going for him.
“After he passed on,” she continues, “Babette was great, always bringing me food and taking me out to dinner, trying to introduce me to new people. But it was hard being alone. Even in The Havens, when you’re surrounded by people, you can still feel very alone.” She looks up at the ceiling and blows a long, disgusting stream of smoke into the air, tears welling up in her eyes. Tanya reaches across the table and takes Francine’s hands in hers.
Oh, God. Did I just make an old woman cry? That wasn’t my intention. I mean, Francine isn’t supposed to have feelings. To be honest, I’ve sort of started viewing her as one of those Ringwraiths from The Lord of the Rings—draped in cloaks, made of nothing but smoke and shadows and evil. I clear my throat to help move things along. Maybe we just need to get past the weepy part. Francine looks up at me, sniffles, and continues.
“One day everybody started talking about this Senior Prom that was going to be held in the rec center. You could wear fancy gowns and tuxedoes and corsages, and there was going to be a live band. A real to-do. Well, obviously I had nobody to go with. The last time I went to a prom was back in fifty-seven with my Frederick. I certainly wasn’t ready to starting dating again. But still, a small part of me couldn’t help wanting to go. Everyone was talking about it, on and on, and Roger made such a scene asking—oh, who was it? Lillian? No. Maybe Carol—anyway, he got up in front of everybody at Bingo and asked whoever it was if she would do the honor of accompanying him to the Senior Prom.”
I cough. “Roger did a prom-posal?”
“A what?”
“Never mind.”
“So, what happened?” asks Tanya. She looks completely riveted.
“Well, one day Babette came over to my house, and she brought her son, Graham, along with her. I’d never met him before, but he was visiting for a few weeks and Babette was showing him off to all of her friends. Well, I never.” Francine leans back in her chair and waves her hand in front of her face—not to fan away the cigarette smoke, but to cool herself from the hotness of my fiancé. I crinkle my nose.
“Love at first sight, eh?” says Tanya. I kick her under the table.
“He was quite the tall drink of water,” she says. “And the colors he had on. I’ll never forget. It was a Hawaiian shirt, but instead of flowers, the pattern was made up of lizards.”
I stifle a laugh. I know that shirt.
“My goodness,” she continues. “He lit up my front steps like an angel. And then he started showing up at all the different activities—shuffleboard, pickleball, water aerobics. He said he couldn’t just hang around being lazy when people three times his age was being so active. Besides, he loved talking to the residents and hearing their stories. One day he said to me, ‘Frannie, I would like to take you to that Senior Prom.’ And I said ‘Oh, please. What’s a young man like you want to go to a boring old thing like that for?’ And he said, ‘I’m on vacation at a retirement community, what the hell else am I going to do on Saturday night?’”
Francine laughs and rocks back in her chai
r. “He saw how much I wanted to go—even though I wouldn’t admit it—and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Oh, the time we had. Babette took me out shopping for a dress, and Graham bought me a corsage and decorated his golf cart with streamers. We danced the night away. I don’t think I need to tell you ladies that every other woman at that prom was green with envy.”
“Graham’s a special guy,” says Tanya, smiling.
Francine nods. “It was after that night that I started taking an interest in other men again, without feeling guilty about Freddie. I started participating in more activities and spending more time next door with Janice. Pretty soon we were dying our hair and joining the Twister Club. Graham helped me see that I have a lot of life left to live, and that there are a lot of new things still out there waiting for me to try.”
Francine shrugs and stubs out her cigarette. “That’s all I’ve got.”
I just stare silently at her, feeling like a total ass. Graham taught me a similar lesson one time on a cruise ship. Not about dying my hair or joining the Twister Club, but about living my life and not being afraid to leave my comfort zone. And what happened to me? I fell in love with the guy. How can I blame Francine if she developed a little crush on him, too?
I sigh and sit back in my chair. Maybe I was wrong about her. Maybe everybody has been right all along and I’m overreacting. Maybe—
That’s when I see it.
Through the sliding glass door, I have a clear view into Francine’s tiny back yard. Not far from the door is a small flower garden surrounded by bricks. And right there in the front, one of the bricks is missing.
“Oh. My. God,” I say, standing up and walking slowly toward the door.
“What?” asks Tanya, sounding nervous.
“Out there,” I say. “The brick. There’s a brick missing. Look! There’s a space where there used to be a brick! Where’s the brick, Francine? Huh? Where’s the brick?”
I don’t care if I promised Tanya I’d be subtle. I mean, there’s a brick missing from Francine’s garden. I pull out my cell phone and snap a photo. Take that, Graham! Take that, kid at Ben & Jerry’s! Proof! I never should have doubted myself. I have the urge to shake the photo around triumphantly, like a Polaroid, but all I have is my phone. I shake it anyway.
Francine walks calmly over beside me, and peers out the door.
“You’re right,” she says. “Shame. The landscapers must have kicked it out by accident.”
“Landscapers?” I say. “Good one. Tell me, Francine. Where were you two nights ago?”
“I believe I was at Redwood Corral,” she says. “Just like you. You saw me, remember?”
“Oh, I remember,” I say. “I did see you. I see everything, Francine. And I know everything.” I sound like a total madman. I know I do. But I don’t care. She did it. She did it!
Francine just shrugs and lights up another cigarette. “Are you finished? Or do you want to go into my bedroom and take some photos of my bloomers? Maybe there’s proof of something else that you think I did.” She glances at Tanya and breaks into a cackle of laughter.
“Gross,” I say. “No. I would, however, like to know what you and your pal Nadine plan on doing with my band this Saturday night. You know, the one you guys canceled, then booked, so I couldn’t hire them back? Will they be coming by the house? Playing romantic songs for the two of you?” I’m speaking in this mocking tone that I’ve never heard come out of my mouth before. I might be possessed.
“Summer!” says Tanya. “Stop it!”
“I’ve got news for you, Frannie,” I continue. “The wedding is still on. Oh, that’s right. Graham and I are getting married this weekend. Not you and Graham. Me and Graham. We’re getting married, and then we’re going on our honeymoon, and then it’s happily ever after to us!”
“Summer!” Tanya grabs me roughly by the hand and pulls me towards the front door. “I am so sorry, Francine. Forgive us. Summer is just a little stressed over the wedding. Delirious, actually. Yesterday she asked me if I’d seen the kangaroos on the golf course! Anyway, enjoy your evening. See you Thursday!”
Tanya slams the door behind us and practically throws me into the golf cart. She demands the keys and starts up the engine in as angry a manner as one can start up the engine of a golf cart.
“What is wrong with you?” she asks once we’ve started driving.
“Me?” I ask, offended. “What about her?”
“Oh, come on! She’s a lonely old woman who owes a great deal to Graham. That’s it. Same as you, in case you’ve forgotten. And you do realize it’s not just your wedding she’d be ruining, but Graham’s too? Why would she do that to him?”
“Because she’s thinking long-term, Tanya. She doesn’t care if she hurts him a little now. Once the smoke clears, she thinks he’ll realize that she’s the one he wants to be with.”
Tanya laughs. “Don’t tell me that you’re threatened by a seventy-five year old woman?”
When I don’t answer, she stops laughing and looks at me incredulously. “I’ll tell you what, Summer, Graham’s a good looking guy. If you can’t handle him getting attention from women old enough to be his grandmother, then I don’t know how long the two of you are going to last.”
I sit back huffily in my seat and roll my eyes. Of course I’m not threatened by Francine. I don’t think Graham’s actually going to dump me for her. That’s not the point, why can’t anybody see that? The point is that Francine is a total sociopath. But there’s no use in arguing. Nobody is going to believe me—not Tanya, not Graham, not Babette, not the kid at Ben & Jerry’s. Nobody. My only hope is to make it to Saturday without anything else going majorly wrong. What more could she do, anyway? Maybe now that Francine knows I’m on to her, she’ll knock it off.
Five more days. That’s it. Five more days, and then we’re off to Jamaica, and out of this God forsaken retirement community.
Well, at least until Christmas.
21
It’s early evening when Tanya drops me off at the Blenderman house, and I find Graham sitting quietly in the living room, drinking a beer. He doesn’t have the television on or anything. He’s just sitting there drinking, and I can’t shake the feeling that Francine called and tattled on me the second that I left her house.
“Hey,” I say, dropping my purse on the floor and joining him on the couch. “Whatcha doing?”
“Just waiting for you,” he replies, taking a sip of beer and glancing at my purse. “Shopping not go so well?”
Crap. I totally forgot we were supposed to have been going shopping. I could have at least brought in a bag stuffed with tissues or something.
“Um, yeah,” I say, laughing nervously. “Who knew it would be so hard to find youthful underwear in a retirement community?”
Graham nods slowly. “It’s okay. You still have some time.”
“Right. Of course.” I nod along with him. “I’ll find something. Definitely.”
“Perfect.”
We sit in awkward silence for a few seconds. I clear my throat.
“So, um, where is everybody?”
“Out to dinner,” says Graham.
“All of them? Without us?”
“I told them we’d meet up with them later.”
“Oh.”
Yep. Francine definitely called and tattled on me. Graham’s acting way stranger than normal, and his phone is on the coffee table instead of in his pocket, which is highly suggestive of the possibility that he just took a call. If I checked his recent call list I would probably see her name in there. Maybe if he goes to the bathroom I can—
No!
Did I seriously just consider snooping on Graham’s phone—a few days before our wedding—to see if a seventy-five year old woman called him? What kind of a monster am I turning into? Tanya was right—Graham and I aren’t going to last very long if I don’t trust him. But the thing is, I do trust him. I fully trust that if Francine called and tattled on me, Graham would come right out and tell m
e. Just as Graham should trust that if I ever did anything crazy—say, flip out on an old woman whom he thinks of as a grandmother—that I would come right out and tell him. And I will. We just need to get the conversation started, instead of wasting time with all of this awkward small talk. Once we clear the air, we can go on our merry way as a united front, together forever in holy matrimony.
I hope.
“So, Graham,” I say, twisting the end of a blanket around in my hand. “Have you, um, have you talked to Francine lately?”
“Francine?”
“Yeah, Francine.” I tilt my head to the side and flip my hair behind my shoulder. “You know, older gal, black hair, smoker’s cough?”
Graham puts his beer down on the coffee table and turns to look at me, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a half smile. “Do you think I’ve talked to Francine lately?”
I look him straight in the eye. Just be honest, Sum.
“Maybe?”
Baby steps. Sue me.
Graham stares back at me, then puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close so that his lips are right up against my ear. Normally this type of thing would be kind of hot. But at the moment, he’s giving off more of a Hannibal Lecter vibe, which isn’t really my thing.
“You know, Sum,” he whispers. “It’s perfectly normal to be overwhelmed and stressed out before a wedding. What’s not okay is accusing senior citizens of committing acts of vandalism.”
I stop breathing and feel the color drain from my face (which, up until this moment, I thought was only a figure of speech). I don’t know why I feel so stunned. I mean, I know what I did. And I pretty much already knew that Graham knew what I did. But, hearing it straight from his mouth is just so embarrassing. I pull away and look down at the floor, still twisting the corner of the blanket around in my hand.
“I’ve been researching those loopholes that you mentioned the other night,” he continues. “And it looks like maybe we can move back down here after the honeymoon. That way you’ll have a nice, quiet place to relax and recuperate.”
